Marked
by shanyray
Summary: In the suburbs of Toronto, a quiet orphanage rests in the shadows. Molly Atkinson is among it's many young residents. Molly, like any sane person, is afraid of the dark. But what happens when the shadows she's always been afraid of, strike at her? When the dreams she's always peacefully endured become vivid nightmares? What happens, when the creepies finally come out to play?
1. The North Star

**Author talks: Hi there everyone! Thank you so much for taking the time to check out this Supernatural fanfic. I'll try to post new chapters either twice a week or even three times a week. Feel free to PM me or leave a review on what you think. Stay tuned! (:**

Molly could never remember a time when she wasn't afraid of the dark. Ever since she was a little girl, her lip quivered at the sight of lack of light in a given area. "The creepies can't get me, the creepies can't get me, the creepies can't get me…"She would mutter under her breath and scamper on her tip toes with warp speed all the way to her bed. She kept a nightlight on her wall until the age of 13. Dream catchers lined her headboard like a small protective army. But despite all her fears of the night, Molly Atkinson still adored the stars.

"You see that bright one in the center of the sky?" Molly tapped the window pane, pointing towards the star she was speaking of. "That's the North Star."

The little copper haired boy beside her tilted his peanut shaped head to the side. "Why is it called the North Star? And why is it so bright? And it's in the middle of the sky, why?"

Molly chuckled and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately; he was seven years old, eight years younger than herself, but very mature for his age. "One question at a time, Tommy."

She breathed against the cool frosty window glass, slightly fogging it up. She drew a compass rose and circled her 'N'. "The _North_ Star points _North_. It's hard to say why it's so bright, but it's only the 49th brightest star in the sky—"

"But then why does it seem like the brightest star in the sky?" Tommy interrupted. He narrowed his eyes at her, silently challenging her.

Molly chuckled, "Well because you think it's bright, so it is. Your brain tricks you," She tapped his head, "Ya' can't even trust your own mind."

Tommy huffed and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "I can too."

"Hush now, don't get grumpy on me." Molly put a hand to his cheek and watched as a smile touched Tommy's lips.

"And as for why it's in the middle of the sky…" She bit down on her lip as she often did when she was deep in thought and released it when she had a proper answer. "It resides in the center of the sky because it wants to."

Tommy scoffed, eyebrows raised. "It _wants_ to?"

Molly nodded. "Of course," She said softly. Her gaze turned from Tommy's skeptical stare to the North Star that shone down proudly at them. "Stars can do whatever they'd like."

Tommy leaned into Molly's side. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, but trying his best to hide it from Molly.

"Tired?" She asked, her attention on Tommy again. He looked up at her with stubborn emerald eyes and shook his head.

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh." She argued. Molly tickled the copper boy's stomach and received a gleeful laugh from him. She chased him from the orphanage's main room to the bedrooms where Tommy bunked with Leroy, a spunky eight year old. Molly helped him change out of his day clothes and into his pyjamas. Receiving jealous glares from the other orphans, Molly sighed and helped the rest of them dress as well.

She watched from the washroom's corner as the children brushed their teeth for 2 minutes exactly. She read aloud a fairy tale in a slowly quieting voice in five different bedrooms to twelve tired children. She helped Ms. Redmond with the dishes and hugged her goodnight before heading to bed herself.

Molly yawned and stretched lazily like a cat as she stood in front of her closet. She suddenly remembered why she had opened the closet door in the first place and threw on her PJ's.

She lingered by the light switch like she always did and turned it off with a brisk flick of her pale finger.

"The creepies can't get me, the creepies can't get me, the creepies can't get me…" She murmured under her breath and jumped into her bunk bed. The bed above her, like always, was empty. Ms. Redmond didn't mind her bunking alone.

Molly pulled the covers up to her throat and sighed with relief. She whispered to herself before feeling her eyelids grow heavy and close, "The creepies can't get me..."

Except this time, they did.

The dream washed over her like a tsunami, only ten times stronger. She felt overcome with a sense of confusion and disconcertion. White light flooded her vision, blinding her momentarily. The bright white light faded, leaving a dim light hovering over what looked like a dark room. She felt herself tense at the darkness.

And then in a flash, the room was gone, and were replaced by a set of impossibly blue eyes. She thought briefly of a blue bom dendrobium orchid, her favorite flower. But then the eyes changed, forming into a soft green. She caught flecks of gold swimming in the iris. Lashes, long but masculine lined the skin above the eye, giving it an overall lazy look. A name swam in her mind, vaguely familiar, it rested on the tip of her tongue. _More_, she thought desperately, _show me more…_ And then, she woke up.


	2. Itches And Voices In Stitches

**Author Talks: Hello all wonderful lurkers of the interwebs! Thank you so much for checking out my story. I do hope it gains more attention, but every read is greatly appreciated. Don't hesitate to leave me a review or PM me, I follow back for anyone who's interested! xoxo -the fabulous author**

Molly woke up with a start. Her pale hand flew to her chest. She could feel her heart pulsating madly underneath her skin. "What in the world—" She stopped suddenly as a word lingered in the forgotten crevasses in her mind. Molly shut her brown eyes, struggling to remember the word that was on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be spoken. It was in her dream—that much she knew. Or was it a nightmare? She shook her head and let out a frustrated. _Enough,_ she told herself.

Swinging her legs out of bed, Molly wandered over to her closet and threw on a beige cashmere sweater and jeans. She walked to her mirror and gave herself a quick onceover. The girl that stood in the reflection was of slight build, but curvy nonetheless. She had eyes the color of mahogany wood, eyes that crinkled a little at the corners when she smiled. Her cheeks were perpetually flushed, as was her little nose. Her lips were full and where most people had a dip in the center of their upper lip, she had a little hole, making it seem like her mouth was slightly open. Her sorrel colored hair was cropped in a curly bob. Her skin was pale and scattered with freckles. Molly gave the reflection a thumbs up and bounded down the steps to the kitchen.

"Morning everyone." Molly gave a half wave to the children seated around the large kitchen table. She received several tired nods and a few hellos. She scratched her cheek absent mindedly.

"What's cookin' good lookin'?" She found Ms. Redmond at the counter, mixing batter.

"Pancakes and berries," 's almond shaped eyes narrowed at Molly's hand. "Have you got a rash?"

Molly's brows furrowed in confusion momentarily, then, noticing that she was itching her cheek again, Molly shrugged. "I don't think so, a pimple in the making, maybe."

She sat down beside Tierra, a 3 year old girl with milky chocolate skin. She fed her a strawberry while they waited for the food. Ms. Redmond raised an eyebrow and shook her head in disagreement, "You've always had a clear face, aking mahal."

Molly chuckled and bit down on a strawberry, "If you say so, king hall."

Ms. Redmond pursed her lips, "_Aking mahal_, not _king hall_. I could make fun of your English just as much as you make fun of my Filipino, Molly."

"Tease me all you'd like, king hall."

"Do you know how many calories are in that?"

Marnie Wedgeworth eyed Molly's friend's Frappuccino with scrutiny.

"Do you know how many fucks I give?" He raised an eyebrow and sipped his straw suggestively. Marnie scoffed and marched off in the direction of their highschool.

Molly elbowed him, "Greyson!"

Greyson gave a hearty laugh, "What?"

"You're mean." Molly itched her cheek.

"And you're adorable," Greyson smiled at her, but his expression fell when he saw her hand at her cheek. He slapped it away, "Except when you're scratching away at your face like that, quit it Atkinson!"

Molly rolled her eyes and snatched away his Frappucino, helping herself to a large sip. Greyson took it back and glared at her. He opened his mouth, about to say something, when something caught his eyes. Molly followed the direction his eyes went and landed on an attractive sophomore.

Molly chuckled, "Honestly Greyson, could you get any gayer?"

Greyson sighed dramatically, his grey eyes smoldering with desire. His beefy arm wrapped around Molly's small frame and he rested his head on her head. Molly itched her cheek.

"Oh for God's sake!" He slapped her hand away again from her face, forcing an agitated groan from Molly.

"I can't control it! It's been itching ever since the nightmare—" Molly stopped midsentence. She sensed Greyson tense beside her; he straightened up and looked at her with wide eyes filled with concern.

"What nightmare?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I call _bullshit_."

This time, it was Molly that sighed. Her shoulders slumped forward, "I've just had a really strange feeling all day…" She looked away from Greyson, unable to meet his gaze.

"I think I dreamt of something I wasn't supposed to dream of." She finished.

Greyson put a finger on her chin and forced it to face him once again, "Shall I call the asylum?"

Molly elbowed him in the ribs. "This is serious!"

His expression fell. He put a meaty finger to her left cheek, where the itch was. "I don't see anything…Let's wait until the end of the day." He gave her a reassuring smile and punched her playfully in the arm. "Fingers crossed you don't die."

"Greyson!"

"I prefer to be called, Satan." He grinned wildly at her. Molly, who usually laughed at his devil jokes, shuddered instead.

The itch was still there. It was there in English, distracting Molly from her essay writing. It was there in Home EC, nearly making Molly burn her pie. It was there in Math, where it got so bad, Molly threw her calculator against the wall in frustration.

It was the last period before the school day ended. She just had to get through an hour of French, and she would be fine.

She wasn't fine.

Her fingernails were scrubbing at the left side of her cheek in violent jerking movements. Her heart was beating frantically in her chest.

"Ah!" Molly yelped and felt searing pain spread through her left cheek. The class stared. Madame Pollone stopped in the middle of her lesson on Passé Compose.

Molly stared at her fingers in sheer terror.

Blood.

There was blood, and it was smeared over her nails in a nasty dark crimson. The world seemed to teeter around Molly. She was never afraid of blood, but that was when she knew there was a reason for the blood. But this—this was an itch. A harmless little itch. _That formed after an ominous dream you forgot and is now gushing with blood,_ she thought to herself.

Thanking Madame Pollone for the slip that said she had been excused from class, Molly scampered out of her French class, clutching at her cheek. The pain had subsided, and just like before, it had diminished into a dull persistent itch. Molly didn't dare scratch it.

In the orphanage, Molly wandered around the house, clearly bored—and agitated. It hadn't been very hard not to touch the itch, but now, she was a lone with no one to keep her distracted. _I wonder…_ Molly made her way to the washroom and turned on the lights, looking into the mirror in front of her. She gasped.

There was a word—no, a name engraved on her left cheek, beside her freckled nose.

_**Dean**_

Molly stared at it. _Dean._ Did she know a Dean? Molly shook her head, this was hardly the time to ask about the name. Why was the name on her cheek in the first place? And then, she remembered, _the dream!_ And like a wave of memories, it came back to her; green eyes filled her memories, curtained by long lashes. In the dimly lit bath bathroom, a voice filled her head, clear as day.

_ Go to Missouri Mosely in Lawrence, Kansas. She'll know what to do._

The voice was low and masculine, but milky and smooth. It sounded like it came from a boy around her age. The man she'd dreamt about had to be at least in his twenties. _So who the hell was that?_ Molly asked silently. No answer came. Blue eyes filled her vision; they reminded her of Blue Bom Dendrobiums. But the memory faded as quickly as it came. Molly chose to think nothing of it.

She looked at her reflection, the name engraved on her cheek staring back at her, loud and proud. She knew what she had to do. If people saw the name on her cheek, they would start asking questions. Questions that Molly didn't have answers to.

Molly looked at the clock, it was 3:00. Only twenty minutes until Ms. Redmond and the kids come home, she had to act fast. She pulled out a dusty duffle bag from the basement and shoved her belongings in there. A few pairs of jeans, a hoodie, and two tops and undergarments. She grabbed her passport and $300.00 from her drawer. She ran down the stairs, ignoring the wood underneath her feat creaking and whining in protest.

Grabbing a sticky note from the office downstairs, she scrawled on it, looking at the clock repeatedly.

**Remember that itch?**

** Well, turns out, it's not an itch. At least, not a normal one.**

** Things are happening to me, and I'm afraid you can't help me.**

**I don't want to hurt you all, or put you in jeopardy. **

**I love you all so much it hurts.**

**Please don't look for me.**

Molly took one last look at the note, unable to stop a lone tear from dripping from her cheek to the paper in an ugly splash. She stuck it on the kitchen table without another look, and went to the front door. Her fingers hesitated on the knob, was she really brave enough to travel across into another country by herself in search of some stranger she'd dreamt about?

_Molly, you need to go, NOW._

The deep, urgent voice in her mind had startled her momentarily. Then, as she glanced at the clock, she realized the voice was right. She had ten minutes before the others came home. She opened the door and raced down the street with her duffle bag in hand.

_Smart girl. Now all you have to do is stay alive, think you can handle that doll face?_

Again, Molly jumped at the voice in her mind. She didn't know why or how she was hearing it, or who or what was behind it. Was she simply going crazy?

_Oh hell no, don't pull that 'oops, I've gone mad' crap on me. I am NOT a figment of your imagination._

Molly couldn't help grinning at that. Maybe, the voices in her head weren't all bad. Blue eyes filled her vision again and disappeared.

_Who are you?_ Molly asked mentally.

_God._

Molly scoffed _bullshit._

_Okay, I lied. I'm Satan. _

At this, Molly froze.

_I'm joking, I'm joking! Jeez girl, lighten up a bit, will you?_

Molly's cheeks flushed, like they often did when she got mad. _I've got a name tattooed in blood on my cheek, some guy speaking in my mind cracking jokes, a life I'm forced to leave behind because of—because of God know what, and you want me to LIGHTEN UP?_

_Your bus is here._

It was true. She had rounded the corner, hoping to catch a bus to the airport. She boarded it, handing her bus ticket to the driver.

_Kansas, here we come!_ The voice in her mind said gleefully.

Molly rolled her eyes. _Shut up, will you?_

It was going to be a long ride.


	3. The Herb and The Sparrow

**Author talks: Hi guys! Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, I appreciate each and every one of them. I'm sorry I wasn't able to update sooner, last week was quite hectic for me. I've had a minor health problem, but I'm back now and ready to attack! Tell me what you think of today's chapter and I might just post another one in the next hour or so... Stay tuned! :) xoxo**

"Ladies and gentleman, the plane will be taking off shortly. We ask that you fasten your seat belts to prepare for takeoff, thank you and enjoy the flight."

Molly Atkinson was fidgeting with her curly brown hair. She was seated beside the window, and next to her was a pudgy man in his forties. He smelled of fish oil and dirty laundry.

_Look at the sunset instead. It's beautiful, isn't it?_

The deep voice in her mind clearly wasn't her own, but by now, Molly was used to it. She turned her head to the window and diverted her attention to the lazy sun in front of her, resting in the clouds. The sky was a collage of soft yellows and pinks.

_How did we even manage to get here?_

Molly said with pure curiosity. The trip to the airport had been fine, but going through security had been a head ache. She had ran away from home in search of a woman called Missouri. She was supposed to help Molly with her predicament—a name imprinted on her left cheek. She didn't know how long it was before another name decided to engrave itself on her face—or her body for that matter. Molly shuddered.

_Relax my little Swallow, you'll be fine._

Molly rolled her eyes at the voice in her head.

_Stop calling me that, I'm not a bird._

She heard the slight chuckle of a boy around her age resonating in her mind.

_And what would you like me to call you?_ She felt he was smirking. _My little giraffe. _

Molly flushed with anger. "No!" She yelped. The plump man beside her stared at her oddly. She realized she had said it out loud.

_Swallow's fine, I prefer Swallow please._ She said desperately.

An answering laugh sounded in her mind.

Molly spent a portion of the flight watching the clouds form misty barriers against the plane. The voice in her head hummed slightly, lulling her to sleep. When her eyes finally drooped closed, she thought she felt a brief kiss on her forehead.

The nightmare hit her like a ton of bricks; she felt a burning on her left cheek at the sudden sight of blue eyes.

The blue eyes faded quickly, as if seeping back into the shadows of her mind. Something nagged at her brain; something was warning her about those eyes… But the man distracted her thoughts from evolving into real fears.

It was the same man as before. The same kind but sturdy green eyes came flooding into her vision. This time, she saw more of him. He was somewhere in his early thirties. His hair was the color you'd see the sand turn at sunset, when it cools down and darkens.

Before, she'd just seen little puzzle pieces of him, but now, there stood a full man in front of her, never wavering from her sight. He cocked his head to the side, his hands were shoved into the pockets of his faded jeans. "It's coming." He said simply.

The man took a step forward and Molly took a step backward. "It. Is. Coming." He made sure to enunciate each word with care, his green eyes narrowing. Molly's heart was racing in her chest, he was getting closer.

Inches away from her face, he leaned forward, "Will you be ready when it comes, Molly?"

_Molly._

_ FOR CHRISTS SAKE MOLLY WAKE THE FUCK UP. _

Molly groaned as her eyelids opened reluctantly. The voice inside her mind was frantic, she could feel him prying about in her brain, searching for any sliver of her to latch onto and shake awake.

_Jesus Molly, your heart was beating a mile a minute; I thought you were going to die; you damn near gave me a heart attack-_

Molly giggled, _you can't have a heart attack if you're not real._

The voice was silent.

Molly's head quirked up, _you're _not_ real. I know you aren't. I've accepted the fact that I'm insane, so don't try to convince me otherwise. _

There was an exasperated sigh in her mind, and she thought of him tugging at his hair. But of course- that would be preposterous. He didn't have any hair. _He_ wasn't a he at all. _He_ was nothing.

_But that's just not true Swallow..._

Molly nearly jumped out of her seat. _You can read my thoughts?!_

He was silent again.

Molly shook her head and rested it on the window sill.

_That's the first time I've done it, Swallow. Besides, you were practically screaming it at me._

Her eyes widened. _I didn't scream anything at you. I was talking. To myself_. She put emphasis on the 'myself' part.

There was another exasperated sigh in her mind, followed by a quick eye roll from Molly. All this arguing was getting to her, she was cranky and fatigued and just plain done with the world's shit. Her eyelids were drooping, struggling to stay open. But she couldn't possibly go to sleep now, not when that odd dream of hers always lurked around the corner. She didn't remember much from it, except for someone telling her to be ready…

_Swallow?_

_Hmm?_

There was a pause, as if he was wondering whether or not he should even be talking to her.

_Get on with it,_ she encouraged.

He seemed to take her encouragement as he spoke in her mind, _Well, I was just wondering, you know. If anything was wrong._

She bit her lip, not sure if she wanted to tell him.

_Get on with it,_ he said tauntingly.

She smiled a little but it faded quickly. _I just…I keep having these dreams. About…men. _

Molly heard a laugh below from the crevises of her mind. She mentally slapped him.

_It's not funny! I-I c-can't sleep! And I feel like fucking Harry Potter with my 'scar-name-thingy' burning every time I dream!_

Tears stung in her eyes. The laughing has stopped.

_Oh Sparrow…I should have known, I'm sorry. That must explain the heart palpitations…_ He trailed off.

_What?_ She asked, confused. _I dream about strange men? That's why I get heart palpitations?_

Molly felt the shaking of his head. _It's not what you dream of, it's how you dream. Don't worry, with the proper training, you'll be able to catch up on your beauty sleep in no time. _She felt him wink, _not that you need it._

Molly still didn't understand, but she was too tired to care. She felt her eyes close then open suddenly. No, she told herself. _I cannot go through that again…_

_ Huh?_

She shook her head. _Nothing. It's just…I just…I um, I'm afraid. _

She felt him cock his head to the side, _Afraid of what, Sparrow? _His voice seemed laced with genuine concern for her. Her cheeks grew warm for some reason.

_About the nightmare, _she explained, _it seems to happen every time I fall asleep and…_

_And you're afraid it'll happen this time too. _He finished for her.

She nodded her head.

Molly felt him shrug then grin, _then I'll sing you to sleep._

For once, Molly was the speechless one.

_The origin of the term "lullaby" comes from the words "Lilith abi" which means "Lilith, go away." In some versions of Jewish folklore Lilith was considered a succubus, a female demon, who seduced men in their sleep. When she bore children from her nighttime sexual encounters, she killed them. So people wrote incantations or created amulets with the words Lilith abi to ward her and other evil spirits away._ He explained to her effortlessly.

Molly was still speechless.

_Close your eyes, my little Swallow, and let me lull you to sleep._ She did as he said and shut her eyes, grateful for finally giving them a rest.

_I don't even know your name…_ She protested in vain.

_Basil. _He said softly, as if telling her a secret. _Basil Hale_.

_Like the herb?_

_ Like the herb._ He confirmed.

Basil…Molly decided she liked that name, she liked it very much. So much, that she decided to shorten it. _I'll call you Baz. _

She felt his grin, _Sure Sparrow. You can call me whatever you'd like._

And then, he sang to her.

_The stars are out and they shine for you_

_ The moon, it stays to watch over you_

_ And I, a creature of the night, do too_

_ The stars are out and they shine for you_

_ The crickets, they sing for your ears and your heart_

_ And I, a creature of the night, do too_

_ The stars are out and they shine for you_

_ My eyes, shining with love, just like the stars_

_ For you_

_ Only for you_

_ It's only ever for you_

Tears were rolling down her cheeks, stinging her scar. But she didn't mind. These were happy tears. Very happy tears.

_Oh Basil…_

_ Shh,_ he said gently, _Sleep my beautiful Sparrow. I'll be waiting for you when you wake up. _

This time, she was sure she felt a kiss on her forehead. She didn't mind. She did not mind at all…


	4. Dreaded Back Seats And Burning Cheeks

**Author Talks: Hello lovelies! I know I haven't posted in a while, but I've got a nice long chapter for you guys to make up for it. *Cliff hanger warning* mwahahahaha! I'm in the midst of stu(dying) for exams but I'm nearly finished, so I'll post yet another chapter this week. Please please PLEASE leave a review for me? I love reading them, they make my day and my heart bubble with joy. Also, feel free to follow, favorite this story and/or pm me on any other comments or concerns you may have :) xoxo-Annie**

"It sure is nice out today," Said the cab driver, attempting to make small talk with the freckle faced girl in the back seat. But while the cab driver was busy rambling mundane nonsense to her, the girl was having a conversation of her own.

_He looks a little young to be a cab driver...don't you think?_

Basil's suspicious voice sounded in Molly's head. She eyed the driver in the front. To her surprise, Baz was right. He looked around 19, sporting shaggy blond hair and a simple plaid jacket over his wife beater. Molly shrugged; _I suppose it's only natural, what with this being a small town and everything._

She could feel Baz's uncertainty. _Sparrow?_

Molly's head quirked up. _What is it, Baz?_

_Nothing. I just need to make myself scarce for a little while..._ He trailed off, sounding preoccupied.

Molly's heart quickened. Was he leaving her? _Are you leaving me?_

She heard the unmistakeable snort coming from the corners of her mind. _Sparrow, I couldn't leave you if I tried. _

_What does that mean, Baz? Are you saying you're trapped in side of my mind?_ She bit her lip and started to chew it nervously.

_No._ He said firmly._ Stop that, Molly. I'm here because I want to be, understood?_ He spoke in a stern voice that sent shivers down her spine.

Molly nodded and imagined sending a small kiss to his cheek, all the while blushing profusely. Had it worked? She shook her head and sighed a shaky breath. _Stay safe._ It was not a request.

For an awful moment or two, Baz was silent. She heard him inhale sharply, and she felt him place a chaste kiss on her fore head. _Thank you, Sparrow._

_Come back to me,_ She whispered.

_Always_. He said without hesitation. And then, he was gone.

Molly could feel the emptiness in her mind as soon as the gentle breeze that was Baz left her head. She felt cold, colder than she'd ever been. Wrapping her arms around herself, she looked out the car window. Rolling pastures of green swerved in and out of her vision. And then, one by one, small grey bricked houses appeared on the sides of the long road ahead of them.

After another twenty minutes, they drove past a dark forest green sign _Welcome to Lawrence._ Molly sighed and sagged back into her seat.

"So," Said the young cab driver. He looked at her from the car mirror, "You here on vacation?"

Molly's lips quirked up at the corners to form a small smile. "Something like that."

The cab driver nodded and took a hasty sip of his beer. Setting it down in his dusty cup holder, he eyed Molly with suspicion. "Parents?"

She looked away from him, focusing back onto the town rolling into their view from the window. "I'm an orphan." Molly said softly.

The driver nodded solemnly, seemingly satisfied with her answer. "I'm Jogan."

Molly turned so that she saw his eyes gleaming in the car mirror, "I'm Molly. It's a pleasure, Jogan." She allowed him another small smile before returning her uninterested gaze out the window.

"The pleasure's all mine." Jogan said quietly.

Molly's eyebrows pulled together, she frowned. She had the feeling she wasn't supposed to hear that. But before her thoughts that were scattered puzzle pieces could click together, a wave of darkness washed over her, knocking her head back into the car seat and pushing her into yet another deep slumber.

There was no Baz there to pull her out of her sleep. No one except for Jogan. Her frightened thoughts were quickly replaced with a mental image, one of chocolate melting over a stove top. The chocolate swirled around in a cluster of wild bubbles, forming a set of piercing brown eyes. The man's hair hung to his shoulders in a dark brown shaggy heap. His lips were thin, but laced with quiet kindness. _Sammy?_ The name rolled into her mind with silky ease. But she was wrong. The man was not a lone. Another man, not quite as tall, but just as much power emanating from him as Sam appeared. A cargo jacket was slung over his broad shoulders, a smirk resting on his plump lips. _Dean._

She jumped back, startled by the two together, her left and right cheek burned with fierce intensity, Molly screamed. A hand clamped suddenly over her mouth, it was Dean. "You might not want to do that, dollface." His voice was deeper than Baz's and not quite as milky. But it was however touched with concern. Molly nodded and her breathing slowed.

Dean's hand was removed from her mouth. "It hurts." Molly whimpered.

Sam touched a cool finger to her cheek, frowning. "It's progressing, Dean." Sam's voice, though harsh at first, was an awful lot like his brother's. She knew that now. They were brothers. _And I'm their sister._ The thought raced in and out of her mind with force.

Dean's shoulders slumped slightly. He patted Molly on the head, smiling with weary eyes. "She'll come to us soon. Cas said so."

Tears spilled out of Molly's eyes. "It hurts." She said again. That seemed to be the only thing she was capable of saying.

Dean bit his lip, taking in a shaky breath. He was looking at her like if he looked hard enough, Molly would shatter. "Oh Molls," He said, his voice breaking. He took her in his warm arms and rubbed circles in her back. The pain intensified.

Sam ran his fingers through Molly's dark brown locks, so much like his she realized. Her cheeks burned.

With casual grace, the men leaned down and placed their lips to her cheeks. The fiery pain consumed her body with rapid aggression. A scream ripped through Molly's core.

The tires underneath her squealed and Molly's eyes fluttered open. Had no one heard her screaming? The dream had not vanished this time. It stayed, lingering with a taunting aura in her mind.

"Well, we're here. City library, right?" The driver looked back at Molly with his head tilted.

Molly stared at him, open mouthed for a moment, clutching at her right cheek.

"Is...is that blood?" Jogan's eyes widened at the streak of red dripping out from under her hand.

Molly's mouth shut. She straightened, wincing slightly, but handed him a twenty dollar bill. "Keep the change." She muttered. And without another word, she exited the cab and slammed the door closed.

She walked at a brisk pace to the library, walking in, some of the tension in her body left. The familiar smell of books flooded her nostrils; she inhaled it greedily and slumped back on a tall white column against the wall.

Molly had figured that the library was the safest place to go. She straightened herself up again for the millionth time that day and tried desperately to regain her composure. She was still holding her cheek when the librarian pointed her to the direction of the nearest public phone.

She hauled up the phone book, flipping through it violently, nearly ripping all its pages. _Winchester, Dean._ Her finger traced its black letters. She nearly collapsed with relief.

The rings seemed to drag on for a life time. There was a lone beep after what seemed like ages, the voicemail answered.

Molly slammed the phone down on its hook and clutched harder at her burning cheek.

Where was Baz? Her eyes darted from corner to corner around her, searching for him. But that was a little impossible, since she had never seen him.

Her bloody hand fell from her cheek to her side. Molly's shoulders sagged once again like the weight of the world had once again been placed on her shoulders. She rang him again, straining her ears for anything but the monotonous dial tones. Once. Twice. Three times. By her tenth try, helpless sobs were wracking her body.

Molly's head whipped from side to side, searching for familiar faces. She was once again holding her bloody cheek, and the pain was getting worse.

She stood still in the middle of the pavement and hugged herself with her free arm. She took one last look at the phone behind her, a tear slipping down her burning cheek. Molly shook her head, she was lost and tired and hungry, not to mention her right cheek felt as if it were on fire.

She looked at the grey sky above her and silently pleaded for a direction. Any direction. Because anywhere was better than nowhere.

_Turn left._

Molly jumped at the voice inside her mind. It wasn't Basil's. It was her own.


End file.
